


Sit Next to Me at Summary Judgment and I’ll Grant Your Motion

by afrakaday



Series: Liaising With the Frenemy [3]
Category: The Closer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrakaday/pseuds/afrakaday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon and Fritz spend time together in and out of court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit Next to Me at Summary Judgment and I’ll Grant Your Motion

The phone on her desk rang just as Sharon was contemplating shutting down her computer and heading out for the evening. “Raydor.”

“Hi, darling. Did I catch you at an inopportune time?”

Sharon leaned back in her chair at hearing Gavin’s voice. “Not at all. You ready for tomorrow?”

The lawyer snorted. “Honey, I was born ready. Yeah, I’m all set for the summary judgment argument. Are you coming?”

She hummed a little before answering. “I’ll be there.”

“A certain FBI special agent is going to be there, too.” Sharon could imagine Gavin’s smirk through the phone lines. He’d probably been beside himself waiting to point that out to her.

“I would imagine he will be,” she said, deliberately obtuse.

“No room for him with my client at counsel table. He’ll have to sit with his unofficial LAPD liaison on the case.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Is that right?” Twirling the phone’s cord around her finger, she sighed, letting her mind dwell upon Fritz Howard, unfaithful husband of the primary individual defendant in the case of Estate of Baylor v. City of Los Angeles, et al. But Gavin was the only person who knew about the “unfaithful” part.

“Honey, I can feel you glowing over here. Still hot and heavy with Fritzi?”

“Don’t call him that!” she said sharply. “I never should have told you.”

“Ah, so it must be pining, not glowing then. Sharon, you know that you’ve got no filter after your fourth margarita. All I need to do to find out your deepest secrets is take you to Cantina Feliz.”

“Now that you’ve had the pleasure of working with Chief Johnson, I’m sure you can understand my occasional need for a steady flow of tequila.”

Gavin laughed. “Oh, that I can, honey. Most intractable client ever, and that’s really saying something.”

“You’ve got the law on your side for this motion tomorrow, at least. My investigation has hit brick wall after brick wall. It’s like she’s determined not to know who’s leaking information to Goldman.”

“Ugh, that skeevy little bastard. I can’t wait to wipe the floor with him.”

Sharon giggled. “Can’t wait to watch you.”

* * *

Sharon passed many officers in the vestibule to the courtroom where the summary judgment hearing was scheduled to start in a few minutes. Mostly Major Crimes detectives, but she recognized a couple uniforms from Robbery/Homicide as well.

With the exception of Tao, who gave her a polite nod of acknowledgment, they stood around clubbily and barely gave her a second glance as she walked past them to enter the courtroom. They neither needed nor wanted her there, their affect made that clear. Feeling invisible despite the vibrant violet hue of the blazer she’d chosen to wear, she held her shoulders high and surveyed the small gallery.

It was such an unassuming space for resolving something that was so important to the Baylors, the LAPD, Brenda, Fritz, and yes, herself. In her professional capacity, she hastened to amend. The pending motion, if granted, would dispose of the entire case and preclude the LAPD from facing any additional claims based on the same set of events--the murder of Turell Baylor by members of his own gang, allegedly due to the deliberate indifference of Brenda Leigh Johnson.

There were only three rows of cramped benches behind the bar. Fritz sat alone in the first row, directly behind Brenda and Gavin, who were talking softly to each other and paying Fritz no mind. Pope was in the back, all thumbs over his Blackberry.

Sharon made her way to the front row and sat at a respectable distance from Fritz, who shot her a warm smile as she eased down onto the hard wooden bench. She returned his gesture with an awkward wave before turning toward the front of the courtroom, eyes straight ahead.

Gavin looked snazzy in his monochromatic shirt and tie ensemble, and she was pleased to note that Brenda had packed away her preferred lurid florals in favor of somber colors on the occasion of the argument in her case. Goldman looked disheveled in comparison to his opposing counsel, though she’d known few straight men to rival Gavin Q. Baker in sartorial flair. She recoiled with a snort when it occurred to her that she was rationalizing on Goldman’s behalf.

Still, at least the thoughts were distracting her from the masculine presence of her lover beside her. As far as she could tell using her peripheral vision, Fritz outwardly appeared relaxed, but Sharon knew from personal experience that stress knots had formed at his neck and upper back, had seen the way he clenched his jaw when he thought about this lawsuit and the havoc it had wreaked on all of their lives.

That upheaval included the beginning of a very ill-advised affair between them, born out of their mutual frustration with Brenda’s refusal to treat the civil suit seriously and a shared belief that independent counsel would be necessary to represent her interests separate and apart from the city and the LAPD. Their altruistic collaboration had quickly devolved into something more selfish.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an influx of officers and others to the gallery. The small space filled quickly, and Provenza was the first of several people to shuffle down her row. He glared at her and motioned for her to move over.

She shifted down the bench until she was nearly thigh-to-thigh with Fritz. She set her bag between her and Provenza, then removed her Blackberry so she could silence the ringer.

She had barely done so when an incoming text alert flashed on the screen. "Hello gorgeous," the text from "Dwight Howard" read. Fritz had chosen his own pseudonym for her phone’s contacts list, inspired while watching a basketball game in bed one stolen evening.

Turning her head to face him, she attempted a disapproving look before quirking an involuntary lopsided smile. She shook her head minutely and stuffed the device in her blazer pocket as the bailiff entered the courtroom, followed by the rotund judge. "All rise!" the bailiff cried.

As the attorneys entered their appearances and Gavin introduced Brenda to the Court, Sharon's thoughts drifted again to the man beside her.

Thoughts of writhing beneath him in her big sleigh bed, early morning sun streaming in from the east-facing windows. Wrapping her legs around him, urging him closer, deeper, and ultimately faster. Him rolling them both so she rose above him, letting her set the pace of their pleasure. Admiring his entirely too-cute ass as she followed him into the shower....

* * *

“You’re anxious,” she said, reaching up to slick his hair back under the spray, her thumb rubbing briefly over his temple.

Fritz shrugged and grabbed the shampoo. “Of course I’m concerned about tomorrow,” he admitted. “Brenda’s career and mental health are on the line, not to mention the fact that this case has the potential to ruin us financially.” He tugged Sharon to stand her under the warm water.

She leaned against his chest as the water saturated her thick locks. “Gavin’s good, Fritz. It won’t come to that.” She hoped the statement came off as more confident than she actually felt.

He started massaging lavender-scented shampoo into her hair, working up a lather. “For what I’m paying him, he better get the case thrown out,” he said good-naturedly, wiping his suds-covered hands over her breasts, leaving them tipped in frothy bubbles.

She laughed and rinsed, moving aside so he could take a turn under the spray while she conditioned. “Well, whatever does end up happening, I’ll be put to work coming up with some new policy for the Professional Standards Bureau, in addition to tracking down that damned leak.”

Fritz frowned as he smoothed soap over his chest and under his arms. “It’s weird that we are both so invested in this, huh?”

Sharon gave him a half-smile and pushed him aside so she could finish her ablutions. “Not really. It’s the case that brought us together in the first place.”

“And it might be over tomorrow,” he said, stepping out of her shower.

* * *

She shook her head and tried to come back to the present. Goldman and Gavin were engaged in some kind of legal volleyball match as the judge sat back and watched, Goldman’s voice getting higher-pitched with each point he put forth and Gavin growing increasingly condescending. She allowed herself to drift again, just a bit.

It had probably been a poor decision on both of their parts for her and Fritz to meet at her place the previous morning, but Fritz had done some research and wanted to test a theory. Finding that his gym offered a 5:30 am Crossfit class every other morning, he’d decided it would provide a plausible excuse to his gymophobe wife in the event that she ever actually took note that he was missing.

Sharon wondered briefly if Fritz’s newfound interest in “Crossfit” would continue after the case was over before she felt the familiar vibration of her Blackberry against her hip. Whipping it out discreetly, she realized that the majority of others in the gallery, as well as Chief Johnson at counsel table, had just done the same.

 _Damn._ Had to be a dead body.

But according to the text message, a dead body not involving officer use of force, at least not by the LAPD. She handed her phone to Fritz to let him in on the situation as the entire Major Crimes division, including Brenda, shuffled out of the courtroom. Brenda didn’t even look at him as she left, Sharon noticed.

Gavin glanced back at her and Fritz, now the only people in the gallery other than the Baylor family and their supporters. A knowing look crossed his face before he turned back to the judge and stood. “Your Honor, unfortunately moments ago a sheriff’s deputy was shot and killed, and Deputy Chief Johnson must respond to the crime scene. However, I am prepared to continue with the argument in her absence.”

Goldman stood after checking his own phone to respond. “Your Honor, I would ask that this matter be continued until the defendants have an opportunity to return to this Court for argument.”

Judge Blake considered for a moment. “I’m satisfied that you’ve both presented your positions for the record, and of course I’ve read your briefs. We’ll adjourn until four o’clock this afternoon. Court stands in recess.” A bang of the gavel signified the end of the proceedings for the time being.

Sharon looked over at Fritz. “Goldman’s hoping to dig up something new,” she said under her breath. “Brenda doesn’t need to be here for the Court to rule on the motion. This is not good.”

Gavin had packed up his briefcase and stopped to talk to them. “I think the judge plans to rule from the bench later today,” he said, pleased. “I’m going back to my office for the next couple hours. I’ll see you back here at four?”

Sharon and Fritz both nodded, and Gavin practically skipped out of the courtroom. “Come on,” Fritz said, standing up. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

She shivered as his hand made its way to the small of her back, guiding her out to the parking lot. When they reached her unmarked Crown Vic and she pulled out her keys, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Wish we could use this unexpected time to sneak away and put it to good use.” He took her free hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “See you in a couple hours, Captain.”

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she settled on what to say. “Yes, you will.”

* * *

Six hours later, Sharon found herself back in Judge Blake’s courtroom, again sitting next to Fritz, whose disheveled appearance--when had he lost his tie?--was an outward manifestation of the traumatic events that had transpired between court proceedings.

Brenda had nearly been killed today. Sharon had sixty-seven hours left in which to file a report about the in-custody death of the suspect who would have shot Brenda, though she already knew that her report would exonerate the Deputy Chief entirely. The leak, and she hated that she still didn’t know who it was, had nearly derailed this case entirely. Fritz, coming off the adrenaline high of finally busting the luxury car theft ring, was a mess. Brenda, pale and shaking, was worse.

Only Gavin seemed unperturbed. He smirked as the judge concluded his colloquy with a favorable ruling. “I have no choice but to grant the defense’s motion for summary judgment.”

The sense of relief she felt was dwarfed in comparison to the emotions she’d experienced the first time she viewed the video of the desperate suspect waving a gun around the interrogation room, waiting for Brenda to return. Sharon found she couldn’t even look at Fritz and clasped her hands over her face, not sure whether she was about to laugh or cry and not wanting to embarrass herself. She kept her eyes trained on Brenda and Gavin as they embraced, all previous rancor between attorney and client forgotten in the victorious moment.

Goldman stalked off angrily, carrying a brown banker’s box and not looking at anyone.

Sharon finally made herself turn to Fritz when it became evident that Brenda was still talking to Gavin and not about to come back to the gallery to join them. “You need to be with her tonight,” Sharon said quietly. “And tomorrow. She’s been through a lot.”

He gave a curt shake of his head. His dark eyes were vacant, unfocused. “I know.”

Wanting to lighten things a little, she added, “I meant what I said earlier. You really do need to play back that interview with the sheriff’s deputy for her so she can see for herself how ridiculous she sounds when she’s threatening suspects.”

Fritz snorted. “I’ll have Buzz burn me a disc. Make some popcorn.”

* * *

Back at LAPD Headquarters, an anomalous festive atmosphere permeated the murder room. Champagne flowed, Sanchez had picked up a sheet cake, and the Major Crimes boys were actually being pleasant to Sharon.

Finally seeing the Deputy Chief, Sharon didn’t know why she took it upon herself to pour a hefty cup of champagne and present it to the blonde. “Congratulations, Chief.”

Brenda accepted the drink gratefully and took a long sip. “Listen, Captain,” she started, clearly awkward. “I just want to thank you for standing by me, for all your work on this case. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

 _If you only knew_ , Sharon thought, guilty. She smiled. “If our jobs were easy, Chief, no one would put up with either one of us. You’re no more difficult to deal with than I am.” Though Sharon had thought that statement charitable when it formed in her brain, she realized the Chief might take it badly. “I mean that as a compliment,” she hastened to add.

“Well, thank you, Sharon. I’m very grateful to you, I really am.”

A beat passed as Sharon clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, caught without words for the second time that day. Finally she decided that simple conventional courtesy wouldn't go amiss. “You’re welcome.”

Chief Pope chose that moment to cut in and talk to Brenda, allowing Sharon a graceful exit. She noticed Fritz and Gavin chatting with each other and went over to join them.

“Gavin, congratulations on your victory,” Sharon said with a smile. “The LAPD appreciates your zealous defense of its integrity.”

He winked at her; they both knew that something needed to be done about the leak in the division, but that could wait for now, as they celebrated the one good thing to come out of this trying day. “Well, I have both of you to thank for the pleasure of representing Ms. Johnson,” he said, amused. “So I guess we’re even.” He shook his head. “She really was one of the most difficult clients I’ve ever had,” he confessed to them both.

“We know,” Fritz and Sharon said simultaneously.

Gavin just wordlessly shook his head at them and walked away.

“Captain Raydor, can you help me get a copy of that disc in the observation room?” Fritz said.

Taken aback, she nodded and led the way. He closed the door behind them.

“Sharon...”

“This is a bad idea,” she interrupted, facing away from him as she looked around the desk for blank discs. Did she know how to burn a disc? She thought she could figure it out. If she needed to ask for help, she could just say she needed it for her investigation.

He stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I just wanted to tell you...I love that you _get it_ ,” he said softly. “Everything.”

“Not many people feel that way about me,” she admitted, turning to face him. “But I have no illusions. You love her. She’s difficult. This”--she gestured between them--”is just, I don’t know, a comfort thing. Convenient.”

Fritz shook his head and brought his hands around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “No. I really like you, Sharon. I think we are good together.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “And you understand her, and me, and the demands of the job, and what’s at stake, better than anyone.”

“I’m not sure where exactly that puts us,” she said carefully.

“Me either.” He toyed with a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear before stepping back. “All I can say is, please don’t delete ‘Dwight Howard’ from your contacts just yet.”

She turned back to the desk and held her breath until the door closed again, then sighed as she went about copying Brenda’s interview with the starry-eyed sheriff’s deputy. An interview that she wanted her lover to show her enemy-turned-almost-pleasant-colleague, in order to make her own job easier. She burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

* * *

Gavin was already seated at a corner table when she entered the dimly-lit bar. “Hi,” she said, sitting across from him. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”

“Of course,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t say anything at first, just brooded as she examined the wine list.

“Hey, I have as much a right to be bummed as you. I thought I was finally finished with Miss Georgia Peach. They want me to represent her in the federal suit now, too.” He sipped his martini and sighed dramatically. “I should have declined. But Fritz re-upped my retainer then and there.”

Sharon hummed noncommittally, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh god,” he said. “You and Fritzi.”

“Don’t call him that,” she said, slapping the wine list down on the table.

“Be honest with Dr. Gavin, now. You try to hide it, but I can tell. You’ve fallen for him,” he diagnosed her melancholy.

“Have not,” she hissed. A waiter approached and she fixed her face into a pleasant smile. “I’ll have the pinot gris, please.” As soon as the waiter turned to leave, her face fell again, her eyes flashing. “Gavin, I don’t know...”

“What to do? What’s next?” He narrowed his eyes. “He’s yummy, sweetie, but he is _very_ married. And technically, so are you.”

“I’m well aware,” she said. “So is he.”

“Yet the two of you remain unable to suppress the ridiculous chemistry you have together?”

“Something like that,” she said, accepting her wine from the waiter and taking a sip. “Neither one of us has to _choose_ anything right now.”

“Ah, the benefits of sleeping with someone married to a totally oblivious person,” he said wryly. “Tread carefully, Sharon. Brenda’s got no idea what’s going on with anything unrelated to a murder investigation, but she is _scary_.”

“I thought we might just end things once the case was over. We wouldn’t have this mutual concern keeping us in touch with each other any more,” she explained. “Obviously, the case is not over.”

“No. No, it is not,” he agreed, signaling the waiter for another martini. “I think it could be a good thing for both of us, Shar.” He speared the olive at the bottom of his glass and popped it into his mouth. “I get paid, and you get laid.”

Laughing at his terrible line, Sharon let her head fall into her hands. “You are the worst, Gav,” she said. “Thanks.”

She might not have an early-morning visitor the following day, but she’d leave her door open for the future.  



End file.
